


Anthem of the Angels

by PrimaryScavQueen



Series: Chase the Dark [2]
Category: 12 Monkeys (TV)
Genre: AU of an AU, Anxiety, Chasing Happily Ever After, F/M, Friendship, Language, M/M, Multi, OT3, PTSD, Polyamorous Triad, Polyamory, Post Series, Post-Series, Sexual Content, Violence, slight series spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-09-02 06:30:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16781482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimaryScavQueen/pseuds/PrimaryScavQueen
Summary: POST SERIESAfter the events of "Ashes of Eden", Team Splinter continues to chase their happy ever afters, finding their balance with their new roles in life as new memories of their final cycle surface.New Summary: 12.3.18





	1. (Prologue) Nothing Left of You

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, ect, are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Note: You must read "Ashes of Eden" or this won't make sense. The time jump in the story sets them back to 2043 in "The Beginning Part 2" just before Olivia splintered Titan to Manhattan and Team Splinter begun their final attack on Titan. Will go AU from there.
> 
> This is unbeta-ed, sorry.

“Which one of you did it?”

A booming voice behind them makes Cassie’s aching head wince. Fighting through it, she turns from the war table inside the facility, heart pounding along with her head, the rest of her body on high alert. Her hand is on the butt of her gun, ready to draw and defend; to protect. But it’s not an enemy at the door. Two of The Daughters stand in the entry way, twin bookends with matching scowls, exaggerated kohl face paint, and arms crossed tight across their chests. Fielding confused glances at Cole, Jennifer, then Ramse over her shoulder, she studies the women as her heart rate slowly returns to normal.

“What are you talking about?” Cole demands, brows knitting together.

“Our Mother requires your presence immediately.” The one on the right—Sabine, if Cassie remembers correctly—tells them.

Jones gestures to her wheelchair. “As you can see, traveling would be difficult for me at the moment.” She fixes the women with a droll glare.

“That’s why I’m here.” The other Daughter, Nicola, answers softly, “Sabine will take the others to our Mother.”

“Better go see what Chicken wants.” Jennifer mutters, wrapping her arms around herself.

Cassie rubs her temples. “My head hurts.” She states, strictly for the need to say it out loud. She was fine just before the Daughters arrival but now? It feels like someone did surgery on her brain without any anesthetic.

Cole’s arm slides around her waist as they follow Sabine. “Mine does too.”

“Yeah.” Ramse agrees as they wind their way through the corridors and outside.

There’s a truck waiting for them and it bares the VII brand, scored into the side door. It’s obvious where it came from but the question still comes off her tongue. “Where did you get this?”

Sabine climbs into the driver seat with a scowl. “She’s at the West VII’s camp.”

“Why?” Ramse asks as they climb in after her; him taking the front passenger while Cassie, Cole, and Jennifer squish together in the back.

“Because we need _him_.” Jennifer answers. There’s an edge to her voice and Cassie looks at her, finding tears in her eyes, “Need him. Need his army. We can’t finish this war with just you, Ramse.”

Reaching over, Cassie entwines her fingers with Jennifer’s, offering what little comfort she can. She misses Deacon too. He died for them and she hadn’t been able to say good bye before…Cassie closes her eyes and can’t let herself go there. Can’t let herself go back to that castle, to Deacon on his knees just before his head…

Her stomach rolls and a fresh wave a grief washes over her. All they’ve done is lose. All this fighting has been for nothing. She’s exhausted down to her marrow, the sorrow still raw and sharp.

Ramse lets out a long-suffering sigh. “You realize in this timeline, he’s out for mine and Cole’s blood?”

“I’m sure Chicken has talked to him.” Jennifer sounds unconcerned, “If she’s there, she’s taking care of things.”

They find the older Jennifer lounging in a chair outside a large olive green tent, looking remarkably carefree given the seriousness of the current situation. Standing beside her, a woman about Cassie’s age stands with a frown. When her eyes fall on Cole and Ramse, her grip on her rifle tightens.

“Max.” Cole greets her.

“Cole.” Her tone is even but the look in her eyes is anything but. Her mouth opens but before anything can slip off her tongue, she’s cut off.

“Children, children, I don’t give a shit about your past business.” Older Jennifer groans, “Play nice or I won’t.” Despite her words, her gazes softens in the direction of her younger self, “Greetings, Egg!”

“Chicken!” Jennifer lets out a soft almost excited sounding huffing laugh.

Cole exhales heavily. “Is he going to kill us?”

Older Jennifer shrugs and straightens. Her movements are slow and almost arthritic looking, it makes Cassie’s joints ache in sympathy. “Considering he’s getting a blow job right now, he might be in a forgiving mood.”

Her words were so blasé that it took Cassie a moment to process them fully. When they register, she blinks. “What?”

The woman doesn’t look up from studying her fingernails. “There’s a reason why I’m out here and not in there with him right now, you know.”

“At least he gave you a chair.” Max points out.

“Fair.” Old Jennifer cackles.

“Did you tell him we’re on a time frame here?” Ramse demands.

“It’s pre-Team Splinter Deacon.” Older Jennifer fixes him with a look, “He does what he pleases. Besides we didn’t know how long it would take you to join us.”

“That’s not an excuse!”

She shrugs and shakes her head. “I could care less what he’s doing right now. He could be having a threesome for all I care. I wanted to talk to you all about _what_ happened.”

Oh, there’s her headache again. “What do you mean?” Cassie asks, “Nothing’s changed.”

Suddenly, Old Jennifer is on her feet and standing within arm’s length. Cassie had barely seen her move. “Something’s changed.” She hisses, dark eyes hard, “And we need to figure out why.”

It takes everything Cassie has to stay put and not take a step back from her, the intensity that spills from Jennifer is powerful and beats at her frayed edges. Behind Jennifer, the tent door opens and a woman with long dark hair steps out. Her eyes flick around at the group before she touches the corner of her mouth with her thumb. She trails it over her full bottom lip and even Cassie finds herself watching the movement.

“I wasn’t aware we had such a big audience.”

Max quirked an eyebrow at her. “Last I recall, you don’t mind an audience.”

The woman laughs, dark eyes sparking with amusement. “I don’t mind at all.”

The spell is broken by the sound of the other woman’s laugh. The sound of her amusement is genuine and it makes irritation rises up swiftly through Cassie, like a wave crashing up on shore, it breaks through her patience. “Enough of this! We’re not here to talk about sex. We’re here for something more important that any of this bullshit and I’m done waiting!” She snaps.

Older Jennifer’s eyebrows drift up towards her hairline. “Easy, Cassie.” Her tone is surprisingly gentle, “Rage will serve no purpose for us right now.”

A bitter laugh spills out past Cassie’s lips; it’s hard and ugly, even to her own ears. “It’s all I have left.” She grits out through clenched teeth.

Even though Jennifer’s old age is obvious in her appearance, in the lines that weather her face, her grey hair, the almost arthritic way she moves at times—a look touches her dark eyes, one that makes her look older than her fifty-eight years. She reaches up with a somewhat curled hand and slowly extends her fingers, cupping Cassie’s cheek. “Consider Pandora and what was left at the bottom of her box after she spilled pain and suffering into the world.”

The hand that rests on her face is warm and surprisingly soft. She vaguely knew the story from an elective class she took in college. It hits too close to home knowing that she’s the one that released the plague. It was her fault. All of this. Cassie doesn’t bother to try to stop the tears that fill her eyes and trail down her cheeks.

“I’m not Pandora.” Cassie whispers, “All hope is gone.”

There’s a noise behind Jennifer and over her shoulder, Cassie sees Deacon exit the tent. He looks so much younger despite the fact there’s only about a year’s difference. Her heart churns and her breath catches in a little gasp. She knows he’s not their Deacon; she’s a stranger to him. She breaks away from Jennifer and closing the space between her and Deacon. When she approaches him, there’s only a tiny glint of recognition in his eyes but none of the love that she’d known. It doesn’t stop her from wrapping her arms around his neck.

Deacon stiffens under her embrace, muscles coiled tight. But he doesn’t shove her away, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t touch her. She clings to him regardless, the pain of his loss radiating through her. She breathes him in and tries not to sob.

“Sorry.” She whispers after she collects herself, stepping back with a sniffle and wiping away her tears with the palm of her hand.

He stares at her for a long moment. “The old bat said that we knew each other in another timeline…that we became close.” He reaches out and touches her face like Jennifer had, only his hand was bigger, skin rough. But shockingly gentle. Careful. And so familiar, she wants to cry all over again. “If this is how you looked at that me, how much you cared for him…no wonder I followed you to the grave.”

Just like that, she sees Deacon’s last moment in her mind’s eye. Hears his last words. Then his head is gone. A sob escapes and she’s powerless to hold it back. She moves back to Cole, who slides his arm around her waist, tucks her into his side. The silent comfort of his embrace eases the tightness in her throat. His fingers stroke along her hip and his lips gaze her temple. Cassie hears a little sniffle come from the younger Jennifer and sees that she’s looking at Deacon with watery eyes.

“Holy shit.” He says softly, his eyes moving from the younger to the older Jennifer, “She’s you.”

“Good call there, eagle eyes.” The older Jennifer quips.

Jennifer takes a small step in his direction but hesitates just shy of him.

“You too?” Deacon observes, his brows knitting close.

She nods and flies at him, clinging just as hard as Cassie had. The man looks stunned and unsure of how to proceed. His green eyes find the older Jennifer.

“You didn’t say anything about this.” His voice is hollow.

“It’s been years for me, Deeks. It’s fresh for them.” The old woman’s voice is soft.

“I’m going to go.” The woman who had…entertained Deacon murmurs, “I don’t know what is going on but obviously, you guys need to deal with something.”

She takes a step forward but Deacon reaches out and grabs her upper arm, while Jennifer continues to dangle from his neck. “Hey, make sure you take a scout with you.” He tells her, “I want you to get back to Tris in one piece.”

The woman lets out a small scoff. “I can defend myself, Deacon. I’m far from helpless.”

“That’s not the point, Melody.”

After a beat, she sighs and nods. “Alright. I’ll give Tris a kiss from you.” She gives him an affectionate smile.

“You better.” Deacon replies and watches her walk away through the camp.

“Wait. She’s from The Pack, isn’t she?” Cole asks, a faint trace of recognition on his face.

“Yep.” Deacon slowly unpeels Jennifer from his neck, “I don’t fuck around with anyone in the seven anymore.”

“Why not?” Ramse shoves his hands in his pockets, “I remember lots of willing men and women happy to be yours for the night.”

Deacon looks at him and the look isn’t entirely friendly. “It doesn’t matter. As bright eyes said, we’ve got other things to discuss than sex.”

Cassie feels another sucker punch at the nick-name and swallows, but grateful that they’re getting back on track.

“Finally.” The older Jennifer huffs and brushes past Deacon, disappearing into his tent.

Without another word, one by one, they follow after her.


	2. Sky Returns to Grey

There was more going on than the old bat had told him. Deacon’s eyes rake over the group in front of him and he doesn’t know what to make of it yet. There’s the old broad herself, staring at him from his desk chair with a sharp look. Her younger self is standing near Cole, arms wrapped around herself like she’s trying to make herself small. She looks vulnerable, so much pain in those dark eyes; he knows her older self is as tough as a brick fucking wall so seeing her like that, it shakes him. A part of him wants to wrap his arms around her like she had to him and protect her from the world.

Then there’s tweedle dee and tweedle dumb, traitors to him, to the crew. They’re watching him like they’re unsure of him. Good. Even though he had promised the old bird that he’d let bygones be bygones for the sake of war, he enjoys keeping them on their toes.

Finally, there’s Dr. Cassandra Railly of the CDC. He knew her from the TV, as a boy, as the world was dying, her face was one that filled him with hope. The Mother mentioned that he and Cassie would be close one day and honestly, he didn’t believe it. Why would she, a renowned doctor give a shit about a man like him? Then he saw her out there, noticing that seeing her on TV? That had hardly done her beauty justice.

Then her green eyes locked on him. Her expression had been a mix of grief, of happiness, something even deeper. It almost looked like love. When she flew into his arms and held onto him for dear life? _F u c k._ He felt her heart pounding, the way her body trembled. It stirred something in his chest, unable to stop himself from responding to it, to _her_.The old bat hadn’t been kidding.

His other self had been one lucky son of a bitch. He knew he’d follow her to the grave now too. Pathetic as it sounds, no one had ever looked at him like that. With such love. It was something. He meant something. His eyes catch a glint on her ring finger in the dim light of the lanterns. It’s obvious she’s with Cole but she loved him too. He doesn’t know what to make of it. 

“Please explain what the fuck is going on.” Deacon breaks the din of quiet that had fallen.

“Well, T-Dubs,” The Mother replies, “I told you all the back story about time travel, The Witness, the red forest. Well, turns out that we were in it for a cycle.”

“Impossible!” Cole hisses, “None of us would allow that to happen!”

Cassie’s eyes drop to the ground. Deacon may not know her like he apparently will, but he knows what guilt looks like. She would have; apparently, she has already let it happen once.

“Apparently not.” Deacon drawls, leaning against the corner of his desk.

Cassie’s eyes flick up and meet his. He’s not about to call her out, there’s too much agony in her eyes for him to. He may have sociopathic tendencies but he’s not heartless. Not immune to empathizing with how much bad shit causes pain that deep.

“I thought the red forest was forever.” Ramse’s brows draw together, “How did we end up back here?”

“That, my dear Jose, is the million-dollar question.” Mother Jennifer wheezes a bit.

“I don’t…I don’t remember anything from that life.” Cassie finally speaks, her voice soft.

“Me either.” Cole sighs, “Jennifer?”

She shakes her head almost frantically, long dark hair sliding over her delicate shoulder to block her face.

“Where do we go from here, then?” Ramse demands, “How do we find out what happened if none of us can remember?!”

The older Jennifer slams the bottle of red leaf powder down towards the top of the desk, near his thigh.

“No, no, no.” The younger Jennifer’s eyes go wide with panic as she shoves her hair behind her ear, “We can’t!! Olivia is Primary now! It’s not safe for any of us to use that!” Her chest lifts quickly, breaths coming fast, “She’ll take over us, use us!”

Cole reaches for Jennifer and pulls her into his other side. She buries her face into his neck. Cassie reaches over and strokes her hair. Jennifer settles at the touch.

“Easy, Egg.” Her older self chides gently, “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t know what it risked. But right now? We’re in a position of unforeseen power! You _broke_ the Red Forest. You weakened Olivia! Now that there’s a hole, we know it can be destroyed from another angle. She may have sold the story of the Red Forest being a place for forever without death. But it’s unnatural. Time is broken and screaming. Whatever happened is giving Time strength again.”

The way she speaks of Time; as its own entity sends chills down Deacon’s spine. It had when she first broke everything down for him. He understands she’s Primary, a piece of Time. But Olivia had made herself into a Primary…Damn this shit is complicated and trippy as fuck.

“How did Olivia make herself Primary? And why will the powder let her gain control over us?” Deacon asks.

“She uses Titan itself; she’s hooked into the time stream. Like dial up internet.” Old Jennifer scoffs then hisses, “Heretic! Abomination!” She rolls her neck, “Makes my skin crawl. The powder is made from leaves that have been touched by time. It allows the user to slip into the time stream and see events that have happened before, sometimes what’s to come. Depends on the user, on the purpose. While we’re in the time stream and she’s there, she can gain control of our consciousness and take over our bodies.”

Jennifer and Cassie share a shudder and Deacon mulls over the information. Pieces of information he’s learned click into place and a plan takes form.

“Theoretically, if we destroy the part of the machine that ties her into Titan, we can break her primary connection.” Deacon lets his gaze drift over the group, “And be safe to use the powder.”

“Deacon, no.” Cassie’s voice is quick, sharp, “It’s too dangerous.”

Too dangerous? What in their life isn’t? The wry chuckle that builds up, escapes his lips, it’s dry and humorless. Shaking his head, his eyes come to a stop on her. “It’s necessary.”

“It’s a useless endeavor, Titan isn’t even here.” Ramse points out.

“But it will be.” The younger Jennifer’s voice was soft but certain.

Her older self nods, looking tired. “Olivia won’t take this laying down. She’s gunning for us and now we’ve broke her happy ever after.” She shrugs her tiny shoulders, “I’d be extra cautious.”

She rose and made her way around the desk in little steps, wheezing softly when she stops in front of Deacon. Dark, fathomless eyes stare up at him. They unnerve him more than anything he’s ever seen. A small twitch curls the corner of her mouth, as if she can read his thoughts. Wordlessly, she solidly pats his chest with a weathered hand and walks away.

“Where are you going?” Cole’s words stop her at the door of the tent.

“Got shit to do, Otter Eyes!” She replies with a small laugh, “You guys can take it from here.”

“Says you, Grandma Time!” Deacon retorts, “We seem to be at an impasse here.”

“You’ll figure out a way.” Her words are unconcerned and she shuffles out the door without another word.

Deacon turns to the group with a frown. “Now what?”

“We should go back to Jones.” Cassie suggests, “We can’t do much from here.”

From what he’s learned, Jones is the creator of time travel. Their power source. Their weapon.

Gesturing towards the door, Deacon inclines his head. “Lead the way, Dorothy, we’re off to the see wizard.”


	3. Hope Fills the Heart

Heart squeezing in his chest, Deacon bolts upright. The room around him is peaceful but the panic that grips him is suffocating. Air can barely reach his lungs and he struggles to breathe; a quiet wheeze leaving his lips. A wet nose nudges his hand as Amadeus demands his attention. He’s at home. In bed. A quick glance assures him he’s not alone. Cassie and Cole sleep, undisturbed. Reality becomes more solid as the dream, the memory drifts to the back of his mind.

“Fuck.” He curses under his ragged breath as he scratches Amadeus’ ears.

After his heart doesn’t feel like it’s going to explode any longer, he slips from his bed, careful not to disturb his husband and wife, and pads out of the room. Making his way down the hall, Amadeus a close shadow at his heels, he steps into the nursery and a weight lifts off his shoulders as he crosses the threshold. Taking care to keep his footfalls silent, Deacon approaches Everly’s crib. His daughter is sleeping soundly, lips parted, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Whole. Perfect. Safe.

Across the room, Athan stirs in his crib. Deacon closes the distance and looks down at his son, finding blue eyes staring up at him. Athan makes a soft noise of discontentment and his little arms flail into the air as he squirms. His diaper looks fine so that can’t be the source of his irritation.

“Hey buddy.” Deacon murmurs as scoops him up and situates him in his arms, “Did you have a bad dream?” He settles in the soft grey recliner in the opposite corner. Once he’s comfortable, he strokes Athan’s chubby little cheek with his fingertip. “Daddy has bad dreams too. But they’re nothing to fear.” It’s more than likely just gas bubbles causing Athan’s unhappiness but talking to his son out loud helps him from chasing his anxiety down into a spiral.

Athan yawns and squirms again until he finally gets comfortable. Amadeus curls up next to the chair, back pressed against the soft material, tucking his nose into his paws. Deacon decides to get comfortable too, reclining back and pulling the handle to raise the foot rest. His son blinks at him, the opening and closing of his eyelids moving slower and slower until they stay close and Athan drifts off to sleep.

Deacon remains awake, soaking up the quiet comfort of holding his son close. A quiet noise at the door draws his attention away as the gradual rise of dawn changes the light behind the closed window shade. Cole surveys them, a small smile tugging the corner of his lips while his blue eyes show concern.

“Did Athan cry?” He joins them, his voice is low as he kneels beside Amadeus, idly scratching the dog’s head.

Deacon shakes his head. “No.” Inhaling deeply and releasing his breath slowly, he continues, “I’m getting more memories coming through. I came in here to check on them and…” He closes his eyes, tongue snaking out to wet his lips, the words caught in his throat.

“To make sure they were real?” Cole asks gently.

The sudden bite of tears sting Deacon’s eyes; his throat tightens a little. Swallowing to ease the lump that’s formed, he nods. He’s grateful Cole understands, relieved he doesn’t have to say the words himself. “Yeah.” He tilts his chin towards their son, “Everly was out light a light but he was awake and squirmy so I figured some cuddle time would be good for us both.”

His husband nods, leans over, brushing his lips against his temple, his ever-present scruff scratching across Deacon’s skin. “If you want to talk about what you’re remembering…” Cole trails off, letting the offer hang in the air.

Deacon sighs. “Sometimes I wish it would all come through so I don’t keep waking up like this.”

A quiet, gentle scoff leaves Cole’s lips. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t remember it all.”

“We were in the red forest.” Deacon murmurs, his mouth feeling dry.

“We were.” Cole confirms, “Do you remember what happened next?”

“The cycle started over because broke the forest. You found pre-Team Splinter me and we were just about to go back to the facility. That’s all I remember so far.”

Cole nods again but remains quiet, eyes drifting over to Athan. A slow smile makes its way across his lips. Deacon takes the opportunity to reach out with his free hand and thread it into Cole’s hair, just above his ear. His husband’s expression softens almost immediately, relaxing in a way that Deacon wishes he could feel.

“Come back to bed.” Cole says softly as he slowly disengages, taking Athan from Deacon’s hold on his way up.

Deacon pushes the footrest down until it latches and he rises out of the chair, watching as Cole sets Athan back into his crib. Completely undisturbed, Athan sleeps on. Cole takes Deacon’s hand and guides him back to bed, absent Amadeus’ shadow; the lab stays, taking over as guardian.

Cole climbs into bed first, getting into his new spot in the middle. Cassie had abandoned her usual place there during pregnancy due to her frequent trips to the bathroom in the middle of the night. After the twins were born, they kept the new arrangement, finding it easier to get out of bed and let Cassie sleep when the twins cried.

A pink and orange hued sunrise shines through the unshaded half round top of their window, stealing away complete darkness. Deacon abandons watching the shadows move across the wall as Cole moves under his arm, resting his head on his chest. Pressing a kiss to his hair, Deacon revels in the fact that this is reality; this is home. Tucked in bed with the two most amazing people, while their children sleep down the hall.

Cole’s lips brush along Deacon’s thick stubble, drawing him out of his head in time to hear a soft noise as Cassie rolls over, facing them. Blonde hair froths out in soft waves across her pillow, light, golden lashes lift slowly. Sleepy green eyes meet his and her lips curve into a smile. She snuggles into Cole’s back and stretches her arm across him until her arm comes to rest on Deacon’s abdomen.

“You look serious.” Her voice is husky, “Are you okay?”

“Just remembering, sweetness.” Deacon answers.

“Oh.” Cassie pushes herself up into a sitting position, studying his face. The blanket slips from her body, revealing her nakedness. Her body is softer since pregnancy; still as arousing as ever. When his eyes make their way back up to her face, there’s a smile on her lips and a mischievous glint in her eyes, “Would you like me to help you forget for a little while?”

A small, throaty chuckle drifts from Deacon’s lips and the blood in his body races southward; ready to lose himself in her, in Cole.

“Always.” He vows.


	4. Cold Light Above Us

They arrive to the facility with little time to spare; Deacon has no time take in massive amount of tech around the fortress as they whisk him and Max straight to the war room. There’s a pressure in the air around them, followed by a monstrous, almost metal groan. A feeling of dread, rare and prickly, grips his stomach, sets his nerves on edge. His hand goes to rest on top of the gun at his hip. Besides him, Max has the same instinct, her hand on her gun, eyes searching around them for the presence of an unseen enemy.

“Is that?” He can barely get the words out, his mouth not wanting to work.

“Titan.” The woman they call Jones lights a cigarette with a nonchalant air despite the fact her hand shakes worse than his on a bad day. Her voice is low, thickly accented; German, by the sound of it. Tossing down the lighter onto the table in front of her, she studies him with sharp blue eyes before moving over to Max.

Her gaze flicks to Cole, Cassie, and Jennifer. There’s annoyance in her eyes, as plain as day. “This is getting out of hand.”

“We need him.” Cassie’s voice is low, tired, but firm, “Need an army to fight an army.”

Jones exhales a thick plume of smoke, her eyes moving back to him. “And you’re on board with us using your army, Mr. Deacon?”

“To stop this fucked up future?” He nods, trying not to feel weirded out how comfortable his name is on her lips, “I’m on board for that. How do we stop this? I had an idea but no one agreed with it.”

“It was suicide.” Cassie hisses.

Her tone rips at the seams of his patience; she rips at the callous places of his heart. Might as well shred his chest, his skin, with a knife; the way she leaves him feeling raw. It’s maddening. It’s confusing. It’s something.

“You say suicide, I say the only way we’re going to find out how we broke the forest.” Deacon bites in return.

Cassie draws up, all steel spine, green eyes lit with fire. She’s ready to fight and a twisted thrill rises in him; what she gives he can take and give back with just as much stubborn determination. It would be fun to see what she’s got for him.

“ _Enough._ ” Cole says. His tone carries emphasis, that Cassie stops, looks at him, “Right now we have an advantage. It’s a slim window and the why seems to be more important than mounting an attack.”

“According to?” Jones flicks some ash into a small metal ashtray.

“Me.” Jennifer raises her hand, “The older me, that is.”

The tired sigh that leaves Jones’ lips speaks volumes of her thoughts about the Mother. Makes him want to laugh. Just a little bit. But he clamps down on it. Jennifer’s eyes cut to him as if he had and she grins, the expression one of pure camaraderie. An expression he’s seen so many times before, right before she whisked him off for an adventurous weekend.

Wait.

Before?

It feels like the world stops spinning for a minute, like his body is frozen in time. He can’t breathe and his heart stutters along in a clumsy beat before it spikes sharply, beating hard, fast. His lungs finally release the air in a quiet wheeze. Max’s hand circles his arm, gripping tight.

“D?” She murmurs, dark brows furrowed in concern.

“Mr. Deacon, are you alright?” Jones is watching him, those sharp eyes missing nothing as she stubs out the rest of her cigarette.

He licks his lips, eyes drifting back to Jennifer. “We’re…partners in crime. Friends.” His voice is quiet, “Daresay, the best of.” 

She lets out a little huff that’s part laugh, part strangled sob. “Always will be. No matter the timeline. Even if we aren’t right now.” Her dark eyes water a little bit, shining in the florescent lights.

He wants to hug her. But, against everything within him that wants otherwise, he stays rooted in his corner. Jennifer wipes her cheeks and sniffles, turning her back on them all and fleeing the room. On her way out, she nearly collides with an older man who fixes him with a no-nonsense look.

“Oh good, you’re back.” His accented voice is British and filled with a light sarcasm that makes Deacon like him for some strange reason.

He continues into the room and takes a seat besides Jones, sliding her a piece of paper. Deacon listens to them talk but he’s lost as they get into the nitty-gritty science shit. He’s a smart man, can follow their principles but right now? He’s a soldier, following orders. Cole takes his attention away from the conversation with a tilt of his head.

“C’mon.” He says softly.

Deacon follows him, Cassie, Max, and Ramse out of the room and into the corridor. Their footsteps echo around them.

“Right now, there’s not much we can do. But we can rest. The Daughters will alert us of any attack so for now, I say we take a breath.” Cole sighs, “I don’t know about the rest of you but my head still feels like hell.”

Ramse mutters something of a confirmation. Cassie shoves her hands into the pockets of her leather coat, her shoulders draw in, making herself smaller. Whether she’s conscious about it or not, she’s on the brink of exploding. He can feel is as sure as his own heartbeat. They give him a room and he steps inside. It’s dusty, long forgotten. His skin itches. Not only is he getting out of this allergy trap as quick as his feet will carry him, he’s not sticking around with his thumbs up his ass, sleeping instead of doing what needs to be done. When silence falls out in the hallway, Deacon quietly opens his door and finds Max poised outside, hand raised, ready to knock.

Silently, he grabs her by the elbow and guides her down the hall until they’re clear of hearing range of the others.

“Knew you’d be making a break for it.” She gives him a rueful smile, “I’m in.”

“No.”

Max freezes, halting their steps, wrenching her elbow from his grip. “What?”

“If anything happens to me, I want someone I trust to run the Seven, to stay and help them fight.” Deacon slides an arm around her shoulders, “That’s you, Max.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Do you think you’re not going to make it back?”

“I think I’m not leaving it to chance.” He moves forward, piloting her with him, “You’re the only one I’d give this responsibility to.”

On their way in, he had noticed a small armory. There had been explosives among the rifles and ammo. He and Max find it and begin to evaluate what’s needed. Finding a small leather messenger bag among the weapons is a windfall as he fills it with as much C4 he can manage. Each block of the explosive is readied with a kill switch. He finds the detonator and tucks it in his coat pocket. He grabs an impressive AR-15 and a few extra magazines for good measure; might as well be armed to the fucking teeth when facing what could potentially be certain death.

But what else does he got going for him? It may be reckless but fuck if he’s not going to get this done for them. He’s a man of action. He raises his hand to Max and she clasps hers around his.

“Take care of them.” He tells her.

“I will.” She replies, “D? As much as I would enjoy being the queen of the Seven, I want you to come back more.” Her dark eyes are earnest.

He squeezes her hand, a small smile rising. “I have no plans on dying today.”

Breaking away, he leaves the room. Keeping his footsteps deliberate and silent, he slinks through the passages, making sure he doesn’t run into any Daughters on his way out. With the exit in sight, he quickens his pace. Just a few more feet…

“Somehow, I knew I’d find out here.” Ramse’s voice rumbles from behind him.

Well, fuck. Deacon turns and fixes the thorn in his side with a glare. “It has to be done, Ramse. I know it. You know it.”

The other man holds up his hands. “I’m not here to stop you.”

“Smartest decision you’ve made.”

Ramse scoffs quietly, his jaw working. “Get it done, Deeks. Just don’t get dead. They’ve been through enough shit.”

Deacon’s eye narrow. “You’re not a part of their timeline?”

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’, “They brought me back, same as you.”

“Are you going to continue to give me the gossip or you going to let me do this?”

“I won’t keep you.” Ramse’s dark eyes are as solemn as ever, “Stay safe.”

Deacon nods and slips out the door. Outside, Titan looms, stretching far and wide. A fortress, a death trap, a monster. The sky is a dangerous looking red, unearthly. Like the world should be on fire. The place feels evil; it’s mere presence unfurls a primal fear. He shoves it away, it serves no purpose for him now.

“Holy shit.” He breathes.

Then he moves. Finding his way in and out of this place will be a goddamn miracle and there’s no time to waste. Night falls fast in a confusing change of colors and he’s only halfway around the outside wall. But he’s grateful for the dark, able to use it to blend into the shadows.

Apparently, he’s not the only one lurking tonight. A figure shifts in the dark before him and he goes for his silenced pistol. No need to alert everyone to his presence with the high speed _pop pop pop_ of the rifle.

“Fear not.” The voice—a male, accented but sounds somehow ancient—says calmly, “I am not your enemy.”

“But you’re not my friend, either, stranger.” Deacon keeps his stance, ready to defend himself.

“No.” The voice sounds amused as the man slips in a patch of dim light, “I wouldn’t say that either.”

The man is tall, with dark hair long to his shoulders. Blue eyes survey Deacon with a bored look. There’s something about those blue eyes. He’s seen them before. Slowly, he lowers the pistol and slides it back into the holster at his hip.

“What are you doing here?” Deacon asks him.

The man’s mouth quirks. “Do you want to know the way in?”

Tension tightens Deacon’s spine. “How do you know why I’m here?”

His smile grows. “Does it matter?”

Deep down, Deacon’s gut tells him he can trust him. It’s something almost instinctive. It irritates him a little that he feels he can trust the man without a second thought. But he still does. He shrugs. “Lead the way.”

They move quickly. The man takes him into a hidden entrance that Deacon wouldn’t have found if he had all the time in the world. His mind goes to war with his body; wanting to be suspicious of that knowledge but he still fucking trusts him. If this bastard gets him killed before he can finish his mission, Deacon hopes Max finds him and kills him.

Voices carry through the cavernous halls as they continue through their hidden passageway upward. A woman’s voice, filled with a rage. Angry voices reply, fed by her hate. Must be The Witness. Has to be. No matter how high they climb, her voice can still be heard as clear as if they were in the same room. The Stranger hits a switch and a door opens. He steps through the doorway without hesitation and Deacon follows. The room is empty. A plague mask connected to a bunch of wires sits in the middle of a raised platform. A shiver runs down Deacon’s side.

“If you’re going to place your charges, you better do it fast.” The Stranger advises, pulling out a pistol and moving towards the door.

It spurs Deacon into action, pulling the C4 out of his bag and placing them at the power source, at the nest of wires in the middle of the ceiling, and as a piece de resistance, where the wires connect onto the plague mask.

“Fix this bitch.” Deacon mutters as he hits the little switch, setting the final charge. Lifting his head, he gestures to the Stranger with the detonator switch, “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

They retreat into the passage and Deacon calculates how far in range he can go as they descend and pauses just about where the edge should be. “Brace yourself.” He whispers and hits the tiny red button on the remote. The resulting explosion rocks the building. Alarms sound, nearly deafening in passage. The Stranger gives him a grin and proceeds to haul ass. Deacon follows suit. They spill out into the night, not stopping until they’re what Deacon can only hope is a safe distance away.

“Thanks.” He says to the other man, almost breathless.

“We all have our parts to play.” He replies softly.

“I’m heading to my camp.” Deacon eyes him, “You should join us. You’re obviously on our side.”

The man nods, tucks his dark hair behind his ear. “Your offer is appreciated but there is someone I must find first.”

Deacon gives him a curt nod. “Good luck.”

“And you.”

“Hey!” Deacon calls after him, “What do I call you?”

The man pauses and shoves his hands into his thick, black coat. “You may call me Athan.”

“Deacon.”

“I know.” Athan replies with a look he’s only seen in Mother Jennifer’s eyes; the look of knowing way too much for way too long; it’s tired and fathomless, “See you soon.”

Then he continues on his way. Deacon watches him until Athan vanishes from his sight. Deacon’s gaze is drawn back to Titan. The alarms are still sounding and there are flames smoldering at the top of the tower. Satisfaction builds in his chest, the destruction pleasing. He has a way to go before he reaches the facility and standing out in the open like a dumb ass would certainly get him kill so he starts to move.

It’s not long before the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He’s not alone. Keeping his pace, his fingers brush the top of his gun. As the feeling grows more urgent, he slides his fingers down, wrapping around the handle. Just as he’s about to pull it from the holster, there comes a blow to the back of his head. Stars dance before his eyes and his knees buckle before he can do anything.

Fuck.

As his body hits the ground, a man steps into his view. It’s not The Stranger, nor is it any ally. But it is someone he knows. It’s the Middle Man. Right hand man to The Foreman. The Middle Man grins at him, wild and wicked, and lashes out with his foot. It catches Deacon under the chin and his head whips back. Unconsciousness begins to consume him but not before he hears the Middle Man’s voice.

“The Foreman has plans for you.”

_Ah, fuck_. The words fade as the darkness pulls him under.


	5. Dead Alive

Consciousness returns.

Slow and painful.

He hurts. Everywhere.

He remembers the Middle Man’s ambush and decides to play possum, using his senses to get his bearings. The sharp ache in the joints of his shoulders tell him that his arms are behind his back. Narrow restraints are bound tight against his chest. Too light for metal; definitely rope. He can smell earth beneath his nose, mixed with the iron scent of blood. His head is throbbing, his neck is stiff. When he breathes, his ribs ache in a dull, burning throb. Try as he might, Deacon couldn’t keep his breathing steady enough to keep up the act.

“You can stop faking now, I know you’re awake.” The Middle Man’s voice is flippant.

Cracking open his eyes, the first thing Deacon can see is fire. It’s too bright and his stomach rolls in protest. He swallows thickly, shoving down the acidic bile that rises into his throat. When the feeling subsides, he notes that they’re still outside. Good, he hasn’t been brought to the Foreman just yet. The Middle man is on the other side of the fire, sharpening a knife. They’ve traveled some, off into the thick of the woods. It’s not far from the facility; maybe a few miles, but out of Titan’s shadow. Enough time has passed that a miniature camp has been set up; Deacon’s a little alarmed that he was out for long.

“My boss will be pleased to finally have his hands on you.” Middle man drawls, “He’s going to gut you like a pig.”

“Not if I don’t gut him first.” Deacon can taste blood on his tongue, his breath stirs up dirt that tickles his nose.

The man snorts. “As if you’re in any position to fight back.”

“Apparently The Foreman can’t handle me at my full strength.”

“Are you ever not cocky?”

“Never.” Deacon gives him a manic smile, making sure it’s one filled with blood and teeth.

“Fuck y—“ The man’s words are cut off suddenly and the tip of a broad arrowhead blooms out of the middle of his forehead. A small piece of brain matter hangs from the arrow for a moment before it drops to the ground.

His body falls next; crashing face first right into the fire. The smell of burning hair, burning flesh assaults Deacon’s nostrils and his stomach churns quickly. He can’t focus on his stomach as something moves from the shadows behind where the Middle Man once sat. Tris emerges out of the darkness, a rifle in his hand. Melody steps out from behind him, bow in her hand. Relief pours through him, a swift current that lifts his heart to see his allies and lovers.

Melody pulls a knife from a sheath at her hip and cuts his bindings while Tris kicks the Middle Man’s body until it’s out the flames.An unconscious groan leaves Deacon’s lips as his shoulders relax to the ground at a natural angle.

“What are you guys doing here?” Deacon asks, slowly attempting to push himself into a sitting position. His shoulders shake, an unconscious shiver as the blood flow steadily begins to return. Melody slips her arm around him and helps position him.

“We heard rumblings that the Foreman was going to be making a move at you.” Tris replies, not dropping his guard, his eyes surveying around the trees, “We were tracking the Middle Man after he crossed our territory. Good thing we did.”

Deacon tries to nod but being upright is a helluva thing to his fucking head. Nausea rolls and he gags before he leans over to the side and vomits. Melody’s hand rubs his back in a gesture that should be soothing but only makes him ache more.

“Thanks.” He murmurs when he’s done, catching her hand and holding it in his lap.

“We promised to protect you as we protect our own.” Melody replies, “We never take that lightly.”

Deacon’s mouth quirks into a small smile; it’s more like a twitch. “I gotta get moving.” He groans as he gets to his feet, blinking a few times as spots dance in front of his eyes, “Got somewhere to be.”

“Will go with you.” Tris’ low voice rumbles, “You’re in no condition to travel alone.”

“Fine.” Deacon sighs, not wanting to argue with time being against him, “But once you get me back, you have to return to your camp.”

Tris’ dark brows furrow. “They not friendly?”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that…” he sees white for a minute, feels his body sway. Instantly, Tris is at his other side, all hard muscles and tall frame, stabilizing him as Melody gets his other side, “I don’t want to pull you into another war.”

“Fuck, D.” Melody grits out, “You need a medic.”

“Got one.” He slurs, “Head South. Few miles there’s a facility…”

“Ratitan?” Tris says.

“Yeah.” Deacon blinks at him, surprised. Then he realizes he shouldn’t be surprised at all, given Tristan’s military background.

“I know the place.” He replies and they begin to move.

Time slips from Deacon; each step sends pain shooting through him as they navigate the terrain around them. Sometimes he’s aware of where they are, other times, the woods have passed in a blur. Tris and Melody pause to let him spew his guts a few yards from the clearing that leads back to the facility as nausea grips him tight. Melody’s dark eyes are deep with concern as she studies his face, before they flick over his head to Tris.

“Should we give him a minute?” She asks.

“The more time out here, the more vulnerable he is. He needs a doctor, the sooner, the better.” Tris’ voice is gentle, concerned, decided.

The three of them press onward. Ratitan looms ahead and it’s a welcomed sight. Two Daughters let them in with minimal hassle. Deacon gives Tris and Melody directions to get to the war room and is greeted by the sight of the group at the table. Cassie is the first to see them and she rockets from her chair, her expression of mix of fury and concern. Jennifer’s look is watery, also concerned. Ramse’s is impressed. Jones and her science-y cohort are tense, gazes focused on Tristan. Max is smiling smugly. Cole just looks fucking tired.

Cassie’s rage is palpable as she stops in front of them. She spares Tris and Melody a glance, her focus on him. Her hands are on him next, eyes sharp as she evaluates him, his injuries. He tries not to groan loudly when she finds his tender areas.

“Did she do this to you?” Her voice is hard.

“No, another enemy. On my way back. I destroyed the Primary Machine.” He answers, wanting to close his eyes and savor the way she touches him; it started as business but now there’s an undercurrent to it; her hands lingering. Like she’s reluctant to let him go.

“Who’s this?” She demands tilting her chin at Tris.

“Tristan Ashwright, ma’am.” Tris answers with a rakish grin, one that flashes wide enough it shows off his sharpened incisors; another reason his people are called the Pack; his teeth are more wolfish than man, “Melody’s husband.”

Cassie blinks for a moment. “But she and Deacon were…involved…earlier.”

“Involved? Is that your polite way of saying fucking?” Tris chuckles and it’s a low, throaty rumble, “I know. I don’t mind. I fuck him too. We share everything; my wife and I.”

Cassie’s eyes slowly raise to Deacon and he catches her slight shiver. She clears her throat. “Here, let’s get him in the medical room before he drops.”

Deacon isn’t going to complain. They get him onto a table and she sends the Ashwrights’ out of the room, citing the need to concentrate and the fact they should debrief the others. But the minute they’re out of earshot, she’s hissing at him. Green eyes filled with fire.

“What did you think you were doing?” She demands as she works, her hands busy all over him once more, “You could have gotten yourself killed!”

He wheezes when she presses on a particularly tender area at his ribs. She swears and tugs at the collar of his coat.

“This has to come off. Shirt too. Probably pants. I need to see the damage.” She helps him into a sitting position and pushes the garment from his shoulders.

“Trying to get me naked, Bright Eyes?” Deacon teases.

Her hands still and a wounded look passes her eyes. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” The words are almost under her breath, spoke quickly but he catches them.

“Oh.” He does what he can to help her undress him but he’s pretty much useless, “I get hurt a lot?” He tries to make her smile.

“No.” Cassie’s voice is soft.

“ _Oh._ ” Holy shit. Close. Close was the word Jennifer used. Apparently close had many meanings. He was tempted to ask more details but it would be a pointless and torturous endeavor at this point. “Well, I hope I was good to you.” Deacon swallows; not quite sure why he felt the need to say that.

She softens; her expression, her eyes—even though they’re filled with that saddness. “You were.”

When Deacon’s stripped to his boxers, she places a hand above his heart and guides him down with a gentle but firm press. He closes his eyes and lets her work. She mutters under her breath as she works; sometimes absent-minded scolding, other times just evaluations. Cassie’s presence around him settles his body, his nerves, his mind, and he lets himself drift…

Whiteness is all around him; bright, harsh.

“ _Deacon.”_ A quiet voice reaches his ears and he cracks his eyes open.

Cassie is gone. A woman stands in her place. She’s blond, medium height. Her green eyes are so very familiar. Almost like Cassie’s but not. She takes his hand; the touch comforting.

“ _Drink the tea._ ” She tells him, “ _You must remember._ ”

“Remember what?” He questions.

“ _Me._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated!
> 
> For the origins of Tris and Melody, Tris makes a brief appearance in [Battle Cry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14036550/chapters/32329806)


	6. White Walls Surround Us

He doesn’t know how long he’s been out. But when he wakes, he’s not alone. Cassie is still there, asleep in a chair at the end of the bed. Her long legs are curled to her chest, her cheek resting on her knees. Jennifer is at his bedside, her head resting on the mattress next to his thigh. Her dark hair is spilled across her face, her hand is wrapped his. Her skin is radiating a pleasant warmth.

“ _Remember...me_.” The voice from his dream echoes in his thoughts but try as he may, Deacon can’t picture the face the voice belongs to.

He shoves the hazy thoughts away and stretches, pain blooming where the more severe injuries are. But he’s had worse. A soft noise catches his ear and he straights upright despite the bolt of lightning that set his ribs on fire, eyes scanning the space. Cole approached the bed, hands raised in the air.

“Just me.” His voice was quiet, tone easy.

Deacon settles back against the soft pillow, yet the tension holds in his spine, his shoulders. Cole pauses besides Cassie’s chair and curls his hand around her shoulder. She wakes with a little start, eyes flying up and catching Deacon’s. There’s almost a blind panic in her gaze before she blinks and her gaze focuses.

“How do you feel?” She asks, her voice is husky from sleep.

“Just fine, doc.” He replies and touches the top of Jennifer’s head, “Up and at ‘em.” He rouses her with a ruffle of her soft hair.

“Is it tea time?” She asks like she hadn’t just been sleeping.

“Yeah.” Cole nods, “Jones has it ready for us.”

Jennifer squeezes Deacon’s hand and offers him a smile. “Ready for a trip?”

He stares up at her as she rises. “Are you our guide?”

Her smile amps up a notch, making her look a little insane. “Welcome to Primary Tours, I’m Jennifer and I’ll be taking you into the Red Forest today. Stay close and save your questions until the end of the tour.”

“We’re fucked.” Deacon mutters drily with a soft snort as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

He finds his clothes and pulls them on, aware the others are watching him with attentive eyes. He wonders if it’s because they’re worried he’ll go rouge again or if it’s because they genuinely care for his health. Either answer makes him cranky. Once he’s dressed, Cole and Cassie lead the way back to the war room. He’s mildly surprised to see that Tris and Melody are still there, sitting on either side of Max. Ramse, Jones, and the other science guy are on the other end of the table. There are four empty chairs, two on either side of the table, facing each other. In front of each chair, there’s a steaming cup of red tea.

“We’ve brought the Sargent up to speed because apparently keeping this under wraps is moot at this point,” Jones fixes Cole and Cassie with a hard look.

“Hey, we need all the help we can get.” Cole sighs as he takes a seat next to her, “Causality can get fucked right now.”

“Don’t sass your Grammy, Otter Eyes.” Jennifer scolds as she sits across from him.

“Grammy?” Deacon asks as he takes the chair next to her. At his other side, Tris stretches his arm across the back of his chair.

“Long story.” Cole grabs his cup, curling his fingers around the mug and staring into it dejectedly.

“While you four are under, the Sargent will help the Daughters run security.” Jones cuts in, “The rest of us will act as lifelines, should any of you need.”

Sounds simple enough. Though what comes next will be anything but. Deacon grips the ceramic mug, the heat from the tea permeating his palm, warming his skin. “Let’s do this.” He lifts his mug to the others, “See you on the other side.”

Jennifer lifts her cup first, then Cassie and Cole follow suit. They don’t clink; this isn’t a celebration. It’s a mission. Deacon brings the mug to his lips and downs it fast, the bitter taste of leaves on his tongue. But there’s something underneath the grassy bitterness that he can’t describe. It’s strange and familiar, the juxtaposition between making his head feel spacey.

His eyes fall on Cassie’s face before the room starts to swim. He blinks but it doesn’t help. He can feel everything all at once in sharp detail, the material of his clothes, the temperature of the room. The strength of Tris’ arm at his back, the almost feverish warmth that radiates from him. Deacon closes his eyes and leaned back into the chair and everything falls away.

Absolute stillness surrounds him.

Only it’s not like the comforting darkness of sleep or unconsciousness. It’s like he’s in a void. It makes his ears pop. Then a feeling, what he can only describe as a ripple, passes his body. It’s almost like surfacing from being under water only without the water. He cautiously opens his eyes and finds himself outside of a two-story house. Cassie, Cole, and Jennifer are standing beside him in the open field.

“The House of Cedar and Pine.” Cassie murmurs in a hollow tone that makes a shiver run down his spine.

“But something’s different.” Jennifer moves, loping on ahead.

Deacon casts a quick glance to Cole as Cassie follows after Jennifer. His brows are drawn down. “She’s right.” He tells him and strides forward.

Deacon doesn’t know what the hell they mean; the house looks like an ordinary farm house. Little rough on the outside in spots but the front door is painted a bright turquoise green, a bright little beacon in an otherwise dreary world. With a few strides, he catches up with them and trudges up the porch. Deacon notices the cheerful door has no doorknob and looks to the others.

“Now what?” He asks, “Kick it down?”

“No.” Jennifer’s voice is soft, almost dreamy and she presses her ear to the door, eyelids drifting shut, “We need to find the key.”

Irritation flushes his veins and he scratches the back of his neck. “Hey, Crazy Town, how can we use a key if there is no lock?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead she settles her body against the door and stretches her arms out like she’s giving it a hug. Jesus Christ, what the fuck did he agree to?

He fields a glance to Cole and Cassie but they look as confused as he feels and he shoves his hands in his pockets so he doesn’t pry Jennifer off the door and just kick it down. Deacon pivots and heads towards the window on the right side of the covered porch. The glass is dusty and he rubs at the surface until he has enough of a view inside. The room that was once a kitchen is bare, wallpaper peeling. Cobwebs growing from the small chandelier down to the table.

Abandoned.

Forgotten.

Useless.

They’re more likely to get answers by investigating the area than trying to get inside this dump. Raking a hand through his hair, he looks deeper into the room, trying to see if there’s anything he missed beyond its shabby appearance. But the room no longer looks like the mess it was before. It’s perfect, like something out of a magazine. A tidy little space that looks warm and inviting. A place that was made with love.

Deacon’s heart twists violently and his throat tightens. Yearning seizes him; not just for the peacefulness that emanates from the room. No, there’s a part of him that _knows_ how it feels to be there. In that kitchen. Relaxed. Happy.

Loved.

He wants to be back there.

Deacon takes a step back, then another. Back there?

“Deacon?” Cassie’s at his shoulder, her hand curling around his arm, “Are you alright?”

The feeling in his chest…expands. It eclipses everything and drowns out the world until there’s nothing but him and Cassie. They’re no longer on the porch but inside in the cozy kitchen. He’s heating up something on the counter in a little gadget but can’t see what it is. It’s out of focus. Cassie is laughing and singing something, her voice airy and light. She’s sort of dancing, rocking back and forth.

There’s something missing.

Why can’t he see it?

He’s shook from the moment, hesitant to call it a memory. Though deep down, the knowledge claws at him. Cassie’s shaking him again and he pulls out of himself, out of his head, focusing on her.

“Theodore!” His name is on her tongue but is twinged with panic.

Nonetheless, the sound makes him wince. “Christ woman, don’t call me that.” He mutters, shrugging her off.

“Well then answer me.” She snaps, her eyes are studying his face, “Where did you go?”

“I…” He swallows hard, “I don’t know…” He sighs deeply, “But I do know that getting inside will give us…something.”

Cassie frowns but before she can speak, Jennifer’s voice carries across the porch.

“Memory, all alone in the moonlight…” She warbles sweetly, her gaze absent, “I can dream of the old days, I was beautiful then. I remember the time I knew was happiness was, let the memory live again.”

Deacon opens his mouth but snaps it shut. When he can form words again, there’s not much he can say besides: “Why the fuck is she singing _Memory_ from _Cats_?”

“What’s _Cats_?” Cole asks.

Deacon ignores him; he can’t explain the musical even if he wanted to. He’d sound just as insane as Jennifer.

Cassie sighs and it sounds tortured, like it comes from the bottom of her soul. “Why does Jennifer do anything?”

“What did you see, Deeks?” Jennifer stops singing, her question abrupt.

She gives him whiplash. He blinks at her as he registers what she asked. “I’ve been in that kitchen. With Cassie. We were doing something…” He shakes his head, “I don’t know. I couldn’t see anything clear enough beyond us.”

“Interesting.” Jennifer pets the door, fingers tracing a pattern he can’t follow. As if she’s a witch, creating a sigil, “Why don’t you and Cassie come and touch the door.”

He shrugs. “It’s better than doing nothing.” He supposes.

Deacon strides across the porch, grabs Jennifer by the hips. He picks her up easily, moves her off to the side.

“A simple ‘ _Jennifer, could you move’_ would have sufficed.” She grumbles under her breath as Cassie pats her shoulder.

“Ready, Bright Eyes?” He asks Cassie.

She doesn’t say anything but nods. He touches the door first. There’s nothing special about the wooden beneath his hand, yet it feels warm to the touch. Cassie places her palm besides his and the warmth radiates down into his forearm.

“Do you feel that?” He asks her.

“Yeah.” Her voice is as surprised.

“Let me try!” Jennifer bounces over enthusiastically and places her hand with theirs.

The warmth fades. “Not you.” He murmurs.

They try all the combinations: Cole and Cassie, Cassie and Jennifer, Jennifer and Cole, Cole and Deacon, then it hits Deacon.

“Cole, Cassie, and me.” He says by way of instruction as he settles his palm flat against the door.

His heart pounds as they place their hands on either side of his. The warm returns, washes over him like a wave. Then the door rattles and opens slowly. Jennifer huffs out an excited laugh.

“Well, go on!” She tells them, ushering them forward with a flail of her hands.

Deacon pulls his pistol from its holster and steps forward.

“Really?” Jennifer’s voice is skeptic.

He looks over his shoulder and gives her a wink. “You know it.”

Deacon turns back to the door, takes a breath, and steps inside.


	7. Days Go On Forever

After they step inside, the front room looks as dumpy as the kitchen did. Deacon’s stomach roils as the abandoned façade disappears and the house looks… _right._ The décor turns modern and bright, like when he had seen the vision of the kitchen. Deep down, feelings stir. Something close to _home._ He slides his gun back into the holster as he moves around the perimeter.

“This isn’t how it looked before.” Cassie says softly, running her hand along the wall. Her green eyes jump to Cole, “This isn’t our house.”

Cole nods in agreement, the corners of his mouth drawn down into a frown. “But it still feels like home.”

Jennifer flops down on the couch and picks up a romance novel from the coffee table. “Well you’re not going to find anything just standing around. Go explore!” 

He doesn’t have to be told twice. Deacon moves, his body on autopilot as he climbs the stairs up to the second floor. There’s three doors off the top step. The one front of him leads to a bathroom, so now he’s stuck between going left and going right. His body propels him forward, moving to the left. Behind the door is a master bedroom with what has to be one of the largest beds he’s ever seen. It takes up a big portion of the room, nearly wall to wall. There’s nothing really out of the ordinary about it; it’s a fucking bed for Christ’s sake, size notwithstanding. He sinks down onto the edge of the mattress and it’s instant comfort.

He looks to the doorway as Cassie and Cole appear. 

“Anything downstairs?” He asks.

“Nothing that’s jolting any memories.” Cole replies with a shake of his head.

Deacon notices Cassie’s furrowed brows as she studies the room. “What?”

“There’s three pillows.” 

He twists and sure enough, there’s three pillows at the head of the bed. “Is that the only thing sticking out to you? An extra pillow?” He chokes down a scoff but a clue is a clue.

She nods. “Did you check the other room?”

Deacon pushes up off the mattress and climbs to his feet. “Not yet. Lead the way.”

They make their way down the hall and to the final door. Cassie twists the knob and the door creaks softly on the hinges. There’s a bed and a nightstand, standard guest room type of set up. Cassie steps inside and Deacon and Cole follow at her back. The door slams shut behind them and Cassie startles. Deacon’s hand slides over the handle of his gun, body alert.

“Jennifer?” Cole calls out.

Silence answers. That doesn’t bode well. “Trap?”

“It doesn’t feel like one.” Cole says softly, his eyes flicking around the room. 

The room blurs, shifts, changes. It feels like a video on fast-forward only he’s in the video. The bed changes, the décor changes to something he didn’t expect. The sight of two cribs makes his stomach drop and turn. He takes a step forward, then another, until he’s looking down at a crocheted blanket with an initial on the border. _A._ He moves to the next crib and finds a similar blanket but there’s an _E_ on it. 

Deacon reaches inside, picking up the soft baby blanket, ignoring the way his hand shakes. Cassie and Cole move beside him, he can feel them pressed close and nothing has ever felt so right. It’s confusing; how can he miss something he’s never had? 

“E?” Cole murmurs softly.

“How is this possible?” Cassie’s voice is thick, “We only had Athan…”

“This isn’t that timeline.” Cole replies, his fingers tracing over the E.

_“Remember me…”_ The words echo in Deacon’s mind and as he stares into the crib, he can see a flash of a baby, appearing and reappearing like a broken hologram.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, he drops the blanket, trying to scoop up the baby. The need to protect her is overwhelming along with a feeling of joy, of loss, of love. It overtakes him, swamps him. Suffocates him. 

“Everly.” He whispers and his body jolts with a bolt of energy. Like he’s waking up.

Cassie’s breath hitches. “Say that again.” 

“Everly.” Deacon looks away from the crib as the image fades, finding Cassie’s eyes wide and filled with tears.

The door opens with a soft click and memories come flooding back. Every wonderful, incredible memory of their life together. Living in the city. Finding each other again. The life they built. The family they built.

He remembers it all.

And the joy that accompanied those memories burst, ripped away by a sharp agony that guts him.

Their children are gone and they’re trapped in this shithole of a timeline.

Blindly, he reaches for Cole, for Cassie and pulls them both in as tears fill his eyes. Deacon lets out a choked sob as their arms slide around him, unable to stop the sound. Cole’s thumb strokes his cheek, murmuring quietly as tears trail down his face. Cassie’s body is so tense, it’s like she’s made of granite. Her eyes are glassy with unshed tears. He sniffles, letting them go for a moment. He takes Cassie’s face in his hands and gently tilts her chin. 

“Sweetness?” Deacon whispers, “Talk to me.”

Her face is blank but there’s rage burning in her eyes. He knows that rage as intimate as a lover. One that he’s ready to embrace to burn the world until their children are safely back with them. 

“We’ll get them back.” He vows.

Cassie doesn’t say anything but she nods when her tears finally fall. He looks at Cole and finds his husband’s blue eyes dark, intent. Deacon knows that look; knows that Cole has reached a breaking point and violence is just under his skin. 

Cole gives him a nod, as if he could read Deacon’s thoughts. “Let’s get Jennifer and get out of here.” 

Deacon crosses the room and pulls the door open wide. They hurry back downstairs, stairs groaning softly under their weight. The front door is open and Jennifer stands in front of the threshold, her dark eyes wide. There’s a mix of emotions there: sadness yet hopeful. So much hope. Christ, it’s good to see. If Jennifer can see that there’s something for them to hold on to, it means that they can still win this fight.

“Please, _please_ tell me that you guys remembered too.” Her throaty voice pleads. 

Deacon sweeps her up into his arms and gives her a squeeze. “Hell yeah, Peaches.”

Jennifer lets out a squeal that nearly shatters his eardrums but fuck if he cares. Her thin arms cling tight around his neck. He pats her back and turns to his husband and wife. “Let’s get the fuck out of here and go find our children.” 

“Allow me.” Jennifer drops down from his neck and bounds out the front door.

Without hesitation, he follows. 

Deacon’s body twitches hard as he breaks out of the tea’s spell. He gulps for air, oxygen burning his lungs like he’s surfacing from the depths of the ocean. His heart hammers hard in his chest, wild and frenzied. 

He sucks in a few deep breaths, his gaze moving to Cassie and Cole. They came out smoother but once their gazes orient, Cassie shoots to her feet, her chair screeching across the floor in protest. 

“Dr. Railly?” Jones’ tone is alarmed and the cigarette slides from her trembling hand and onto the floor.

Cassie says nothing but slams her fists down onto the table. The tabletop vibrates with the force and a wordless noise escapes her throat. It’s deep and angry, half scream-half sob. Pain is written all over her face, in the pinch of her eyes, the furrow of her brow. 

“What happened?” Ramse demands.

“We remembered what happened in that timeline.” Cole answers for her, “The long story short is Cassie, Deacon, and I were together and we had two children.”

Ramse blinks, his mouth opens and shuts a few times before he shakes his head. “Glossing over the fact that you three were somehow a…a…”

“Throuple!” Jennifer butts in with a grin.

“Okay, throuple, did you find out _why_ the timeline fell apart?” Ramse continues.

Cole exhales slowly, looks vaguely embarrassed. “No.” 

“Good thing I’m here to fill in some gaps.” A voice speaks from behind them.

Deacon spine straightens as he recognizes the distinct accent and cadence. _Athan_. His heart tightens as he turns his head, finding the future version of his son leaning against the doorway nonchalantly. There’s a cocky smile on his lips when their eyes meet.

“Did you know who I was?” Deacon asks.

Athan nods slowly. “I did. I couldn’t not help you, Dad.” 

Dad. Holy fuck is that weird to hear. But at the same time? It’s the best thing he’s ever been called.

Cassie moves, bolting around the table and closes the space between them. She wraps her arms around him and sobs in earnest against his chest. Athan hugs her back, murmuring quietly. 

“I’m so very lost.” Melody mutters and Deacon isn’t sure how to even begin explaining things.

“They’re here?” Athan’s eyes lift and fix on Melody and Tris, “Curious.” His gaze softs, “Aunt Max is here. Good.” 

“Aunt Max?” Max repeats, her words soft with wonder and a touch of panic that almost makes Deacon laugh.

“Can you stop being a vague little shit for five minutes and fill everyone in?” Cole asks with a tired sigh but there’s affection in his eyes. 

“If you insist, Father.” Athan smiles and gently breaks out of Cassie’s arms, escorting her back to her empty chair. 

Athan stands at the front of the table and takes a school teacher-esque stance. “Where shall I begin?” 

“Start at the part where the timeline broke and we ended up back here.” Ramse drums his fingers on the table top. 

“Ah, of course, Uncle.” Athan draws in a breath, “My dear twin broke the timeline. Olivia’s darkness still exists and must be eradicated. You may have killed her once but her evil left a blemish on Time. One that your first battle didn’t remove.”

“But why Everly? And why isn’t she here?” Cassie asks.

“Everly is hiding; somewhere out of Olivia’s reach.” Athan explains, “Where I am a Primary, a piece of Time…Everly is something quite different.” 

“What do you mean?” Cole says, leaning back in his chair.

“She’s a gift of Time.” A smile quirks Athan’s lips, “Quite literally, Time’s heart. Time saw the way your relationship grew and became something that gave Time peace. So Time wanted to give you the one thing it had left: it’s heart.”

That was…a lot to digest. Time being sentient and the fact that his love with Cassie and Cole played such a role. But that doesn’t matter to Deacon right now, all that matter is that they find Everly, keep her safe. “How can we find her? I’m assuming that’s who you were looking for when we spoke.” 

“You’re correct.” Athan nods.

“Wait, when did you two speak?” Cole asks.

“Our son helped me get into Titan and blow up the Primary Machine.” Deacon grins, a feeling of pride settling into his chest. What father doesn’t want to make a little mayhem with their son?

“It was a foolish risk on both your parts!” Cassie crosses her arms across her chest. 

“You may think it was foolish, Mother, but it was necessary.” Athan’s green eyes a lit with amusement as Cassie’s expression shifts to one of exhaustion.

“Oh God, you’re just as stubborn as you dads.” She groans, her eyes rolling towards the ceiling. 

Deacon chuckles softly but hides it as a cough as Cassie shoots him a glare. “So, do you have a plan to find Everly?” Deacon recovers and addresses their son. 

“I have a few.” Athan glances as Cassie, “I will warn you, she’s more stubborn than I am.” 

“Takes after her mother.” Deacon mutters loud enough that his voice carries.

Cassie kicks him under the table but he just smiles at her. “Let’s get planning.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated!


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